


There Was a Before

by HeylelAndGoldenWings



Series: Modern Spring Awakening AU [4]
Category: Spring Awakening
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Moritz is sad but Melchi comforts him, Sad, Underage Drinking, mentions of self harm, sad moritz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:58:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeylelAndGoldenWings/pseuds/HeylelAndGoldenWings
Summary: There had been a before. A before Melchior loved Moritz, and a before Ernst loved Hanschen, and even a before Hanschen loved Ernst. But Moritz had always loved Melchior. No, it had never been love at first sight, but something had been there, and always would be.





	There Was a Before

**Author's Note:**

> GUYS, I’VE GOT AN IMPORTANT QUESTION. 
> 
> SO...
> 
> Would any of you like it if I started a DD/LB series for either Melchritz or Hernst? If so, it could really be both or either, I’ll let y’all pick. Tell me what you want in the comments! I can also take suggestions? 
> 
> I’ll probably be posting a Hernst work next because of all these Melchritz ones... ah. Thanks so much y’all. Also, if you want, you can follow me on Instagram. My user is @a.hamedits. If you want me to follow back just DM me saying you read my stuff.

There had been a before. A before Melchior loved Moritz, and a before Ernst loved Hanschen, and even a before Hanschen loved Ernst. But Moritz had always loved Melchior. No, it had never been love at first sight, but something had been there, and always would be. 

Today was just one of those days that Moritz was remembering. It wasn’t even bad memories that he was recalling—in fact, most of them were good. So good, that they hurt like the devil. So Moritz lay curled in bed, a fist shoved in his mouth to keep his sobs quiet and eyes squeezed shut. 

Sometimes Moritz simply got sad. There were days when he couldn’t get out of bed. Days when he didn’t even have the energy to reach for his phone and check his texts, days when he lost his appetite and lost his will to feel anything. Not to mention, his head felt as if it head been impaled. 

So yeah, this was one of those days. He dragged himself to his feet, rubbed a hand over his eyes, and shuffled to his parents’ bedroom. Quietly and strained, he told them he would be staying home today because he had thrown up. It was a lie, and they barely believed him, but were too tired to argue, and sent him back to his room. Moritz’s shoulders shook as he lifted his covers and tucked himself in. 

Moritz hesitantly made sure to turn his phone off, not wanting to be bothered by the annoying string of texts his friends would soon be sending him. First Ernst or Ilse, most likely. Then Wendla. Then Martha. Then Hanschen. Then Thea, Anna, and lastly, Melchior. 

Melchior always texted him last. 

Moritz tugged a hand through his hair and let out a gurgling scream of agony. What was he doing wrong? Why didn’t Melchior love him as much as he loved Melchior? What was it?

Was he too sad all the time?

Was he too noisy?

Was he too feminine?

Was he too submissive?

Was he too….

stupid?

Moritz rocked back and forth, watery cries escaping him. It had to be all of those things, right? But mostly the last one, because why would someone as smart as Melchior ever want a stupid boy like Moritz? Even with Wendla tutoring him (Melchior was too ‘busy’ for that), his grades averaged a C+ at most, a D+ at least. Wendla told him these were good. Melchior told him he could do better if he tried. 

No he couldn’t. He just wasn’t naturally smart like them! It was awful, and honestly, he probably had some kind of disorder. The idea of that sent him into another wave of shock. His parents would never believe him if he told them that. Hell, when he told them he wanted to go to therapy they had shot it down like a deer. 

ADHD. 

Dyslexia. 

What else? Really? What else was there? Those were the two most obvious ones. Wendla and Martha had both told him countless times…

Guilt gnawed at Moritz’s stomach. He had never told Melchior. He had just pretended to be too tired (honestly, sometimes he was— a strong case of insomnia was on the list of shit wrong with him as well). 

Moritz shoved his thumb against his mouth and began to chew on his fingernail. It wasn’t a healthy habit, but he didn’t care. 

As more thoughts entered his head, Moritz was quickly losing his grasp on reality. He heard both his parents leave— first his dad, dressed clean and crisp for the bank, next his mom, in a pretty dress with a nice straw cap— the kind she had taken an obsession with last summer and still seemed to be intrigued with. 

Moritz stood, making his way towards the liquor cabinet. “I’m sorry, Melchi,” he whispered to nobody. Yeah, he had promised Melchior not to get drunk like that again, but fuck it. He needed to forget. 

Before he even started to look for the key, Moritz spotted an unopened Bud Light on the counter. Surely his father wouldn’t notice? 

Once he had gotten it open, Moritz stumbled back to his room and lay back against his headboard. Ah, to get drunk. The most glorious feeling in the world. If only Ilse was here to share with him. 

Moritz didn’t remember exactly when he finished the beer, but as he sipped the last drop, he realized with finality that he felt shittier than before. This time, the alcohol wasn’t working. His headache had turned into a migraine, though his sobs had dribbled into more controlled, shaky breaths. 

Moritz’s thoughts drifted. What could he do to feel better? He could cut. Oh, sure he could. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t before. Really, he knew how to do it without accidentally killing himself. That was another option too, of course. 

Moritz groaned. He didn’t want to kill him self. He did, however, want to cut. He missed the feeling of the knife flushed harmfully against his skin. 

“Melchior will find out,” he told himself sternly, and closed his eyes to gain composure. That would be real ugly, just like the last time someone had found out. The first time it had been Ernst. The second time it had been Hanschen. And this time, Moritz just knew it would be Melchior. 

Still, he wanted. He wanted so badly… but no. Moritz bit his lip, which was trembling wildly. Sleeping, that was another option. He could just sleep his day away, not a care in the world, and when he woke up he might have a slight hangover, but at least he wouldn’t be so damned sad. 

Moritz mostly wanted Melchior. He wanted to feel his boyfriend pressed tight against him, murmuring loving, smooth nothings into his ear. Rubbing his back, eyes wide with honest love. 

Melchior was at school though, learning, getting smarter and smarter as Moritz got more and more hopeless, the seconds ticking by. Tick, tock. It was past noon. Tick, tock. At least three and a half hours before he might be able to see Melchi again. Tick, tock. Three and a half more hours to tell himself not to cut, not to disappear, not to fall asleep, because what if he never woke up again?

Moritz shivered. The thought of never waking up seemed much less pleasing than it had even ten minutes, and still, he had been very cross with the idea then. 

So Moritz waited the day out. As he had predicted, about three and a half hours later, a sharp pounding on the door, dragging Moritz out of his thoughts. 

He stood on wobbly legs, tear tracks stained his face. Moritz knew he’d have to explain everything to Melchior, even though he thought that just sounded harsh. 

“Hey,” Moritz breathed as he created open the door. Melchior shouldered in, frowning, and pecked Moritz on the cheek.

“You’ve been drinking,” Melchior deadpanned, his lips curling into an unpleasant scowl. “What did you promise me, Moritz? For fuck’s sake.”

Moritz shrugged away from Melchior. “‘M sorry,” he whimpered, scared that Melchior might do something to him. He had never seen the boy so angry. 

“Come to bed,” Melchior sighed, his tone much gentler. “Come on, baby. Let’s go.” Melchior made his way to Moritz’s bedroom, the boy trailing after him. 

They both settled on Moritz’s bed. Once they were comfortable, Melchior wrapped his arms around Moritz and pulled him closer. “Tell me about your day, sweetheart.”

“I woke up and was sad,” Moritz admitted. 

“Yeah?” Melchior hummed, stroking Moritz’s hair. “Well, now that I’m here you have no need to be sad. Plus, I hate it when the love of my life is sad. It’s no good.”

Moritz blushed. “Why don’t you tell me about your day?”

“It was boring without you,” Melchior told him truthfully, and swept him into an adoring kiss, before pulling away. “Let’s get some sleep before your damned parents get home, huh?” 

Moritz could only nod in agreement, he was already half-asleep. 

(PLEASE CHECK THE NOTES, WHICH ARE AT THE TOP)


End file.
